


they wither with the wind, they crumble in your hand

by iceberry



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Episode: s15e19 Inherit the Earth, Gen, Grief/Mourning, Parent Death, Sam Winchester is Jack Kline's Parent
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-13
Updated: 2020-11-13
Packaged: 2021-03-10 03:15:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,384
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27537436
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/iceberry/pseuds/iceberry
Summary: “I-” Jack starts, and his voice cracks on that single syllable. “I didn’t get to say goodbye,” he manages to get out.Jack is a child, definitely different than any other child Sam has met, but he does have to remind himself that Jack is three because - and he has to blink his own tears back when the realization hits him like a train - all Sam can think of when he looks down at him is a twenty-two year old with stitches in his face and a cup of coffee falling onto the hospital floor.
Relationships: Jack Kline & Sam Winchester
Comments: 13
Kudos: 72





	they wither with the wind, they crumble in your hand

**Author's Note:**

> continuing the endless cycle of me saying "thank you sophie!" and her saying "thank you bry!" in the a/n of our spn fics by saying: thank you to sophie for reading this over

~~~~“Jack,” Sam says, knocking on the door. He’s not sure what he expected to hear as he walked down the hall to the nephilim’s room. Half of him isn’t surprised at the silence that greets him, almost used to it after a day of being one of the only souls left on earth, the other half was bracing himself to be met with Jack in tears. Instead, as Sam pushes the door open, he sees Jack lying on the bed, facing the other wall. ~~~~

Without saying anything right away, he walks over and sits on the edge of Jack’s bed, mattress shifting under his weight. He can hear the quiet hitches in Jack’s breathing. ~~~~

“How are you holding up?” Sam asks after a moment of quiet, and he knows it’s a hollow question but he also knows he has to ask it. _That’s my job_ , he thinks. _Parenting is always a struggle,_ his mom had told him. Sam doesn’t think that he would have ever imagined it would be a struggle quite like this, but maybe that’s kind of the point. _The world can fall apart, every person you’ve known and loved could disappear, your brother could be drinking himself to death down the hall, and you still have to be a dad._ ~~~~

Jack doesn’t respond at first, but Sam does feel the bed shift behind him, and can feel the pull of the quilt under his hands as Jack rolls over and sits up. There’s a shuffling, and then Jack swings his legs over and is sitting on the edge of the bed next to Sam. He sees Jack’s hands grip the quilt, bunching it up under his white knuckles, before he looks up and sees the kid’s swollen eyes. ~~~~

“I-” Jack starts, and his voice cracks on that single syllable. “I didn’t get to say goodbye,” he manages to get out, and _fuck_ , Sam thinks. _Fuck_. Jack is a child, definitely different than any other child Sam has met, but he does have to remind himself that Jack is three because - and he has to blink his own tears back when the realization hits him like a train - all Sam can think of when he looks down at him is a twenty-two year old with stitches in his face and a cup of coffee falling onto the hospital floor. ~~~~

_Don’t cry_ , he tells himself, the taste of iron blossoming on his tongue as he bites the inside of his cheek. _Keep it together for Jack_. ~~~~

“I know,” Sam says, still hesitant to reach out; he knows it’s more because he’s worried about how he’ll be able to keep it together than out of fear of upsetting Jack. “I know and Jack, I’m _so_ sorry. I know Castiel would have wanted to.” He doesn’t know, he doesn’t know what _really_ happened in the black box of the bunker while he and Jack were in the silo, but he has to believe it. For both of them, really. ~~~~

Jack tries to reach an arm around Sam’s back, getting most of the way there. He’s moving slowly, almost cautiously, but Sam takes the opportunity to pull Jack into his arms. Objectively Jack isn’t small, but he _seems_ so much smaller as he leans against Sam’s chest and Sam presses his cheek to the top of Jack’s head. Objectivity doesn’t matter too much when your dad is dead. He can feel Jack’s hair getting messed up, strands sticking to where his cheeks are wet. He’s not sure when he started crying. ~~~~

“I didn’t get to say goodbye to my dad either,” Sam says quietly, words muffled but close enough to Jack’s ears that he knows he’ll hear. “He asked me to get him a cup of coffee, said goodbye to Dean, and when I got back, he was gone. Made a deal with a demon when he realized Dean wasn’t gonna pull through after we were in an accident.” Even now, fourteen years later, even after he’s gotten the closest thing anyone could _possibly_ get to closure for it, it still hurts to think about. ~~~~

Sam can feel Jack shake a bit, feel a few wet drops land on the arm that’s wrapped around Jack’s front, and he just squeezes him tighter once, twice. He doesn’t know if he’s doing this right, but Jack doesn’t let go of him so he holds on right back. ~~~~

“How do you… how did you…?” Jack starts his question once, twice, before just dropping it and hoping Sam understands what he’s trying to get out. ~~~~

“I don’t know,” Sam admits, and if he wasn’t sure he was doing it right before, now he feels even more unsure, but he’s not going to _lie_ to Jack and pretend he has all the answers. “I got mad. For a really long time, I was _pissed_ , but my dad… we already had our problems. Nothing like Castiel. I guess I wish I hadn’t stayed so angry for so long, but I didn’t know how else to feel about it.” ~~~~

“I know he didn’t know he was going to die, but it hurts, Sam,” Jack says, and though his breath isn’t shuddering quite as much, he still sounds exhausted. Sam realizes with some surprise that his hand has been moving of its own accord, rubbing Jack’s back through his thin t-shirt. ~~~~

“Once we figure out what to do about Chuck,” Sam says, and maybe the comfort he’s trying to offer here isn’t quite in line with his optimism about their situation but _Christ_ , what he would have given to have someone give him a little hope after they burnt his dad on that pyre. “The end with us is almost never the end, you know?” ~~~~

“And what if it is?” Jack asks, and leans back a bit, forcing Sam to straighten up and loosen the hug so he can look the nephilim in the eyes, though he doesn’t stop moving his hand up and down Jack’s back. “What if it is the real end?” ~~~~

“Then you’ll still be okay,” Sam says, and surprises himself with just how much he means it. Jack’s eyes, still red-rimmed and wet, look back at him with disbelief. “I mean it, Jack. You will. It might take months, might take years, might take decades, and you’ll always miss him. But you’ll be okay.” Sam has no idea what he’s doing right now, has no idea how to help Jack through the second loss of a parent the kid has had to deal with, especially when he never even got to know his mom (and _fuck_ , isn’t that a familiar refrain too). But feeling like you’re failing your kid, then looking at them and knowing they’re amazing, they’re going to be amazing, _That’s part of it too_ , Sam allows himself. _That’s part of it_. ~~~~

Jack doesn’t reply, but lets out a loud sniff that finally prompts Sam to let go of him; he squeezes him tight one more time as he starts to stand up. “You want some tissues, bud?” ~~~~

“Yeah,” Jack replies after a second, and lets out the kind of grief-heavy half-laugh that you make when you’re suddenly aware of the extent of snot and tears all over your face. Sam grabs a box from atop Jack’s dresser, and tosses them to him. ~~~~

“I know it’s the last thing you want to do right now, but you should try to get some sleep,” Sam says. “I can grab a book and sit in here if you don’t want to be alone, I just need to check on Dean first.” ~~~~

Jack finishes blowing his nose and looks up at him, considering it for a second before shaking his head. “No, I think I’d rather be alone.” Sam nods and heads towards the hall, pausing in the doorframe and turning around when he hears Jack call his name. ~~~~

“Sam?” ~~~~

“Yeah, Jack?” ~~~~

“Thank you.” ~~~~

Sam musters up an expression as close to a smile as he can handle right now. He closes the door quietly behind him, exhales, letting out a breath that he hadn’t even realized he was holding. And when he’s far enough down the hall that he doesn’t think Jack will hear him, he leans against the wall, and lets himself cry.

This is part of it, too _._

**Author's Note:**

> i've wanted to write this since last week bc i am OBSESSED with how jack and sam are the same person but waited until the episode aired just in case. title from leaves that are green by simon & garfunkel.
> 
> also it kicks ass that sam's son is god now? i personally love that for them. anyways love comments! commiserate or celebrate, i'm personally just vibing
> 
> @tube_ebooks on twitter


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